Art of Dying
by Noctis the Devious
Summary: It's going to be a blood bath...


**Author's Note**: This was inspired by Flashing The Floods fan fiction, Means to an Endgame, and while there are mentions of BL it's still a good read. Corpse Ballad was something I wrote over two years ago for a Flash Fiction contest back on Figment and thought I'd incorporate it into the story. Read and Review please?

* * *

Boris wasn't sure what he was expecting when he slid back the car door but what he did see gave him pause. He wasn't greeted by two timid rabbits nor did the sound of girlish giggles reach his ears (which seemed odd to mention yet not out of place given the circumstance). Instead, an eerie serenity welcomed him with open arms as the pair of volunteered tributes indulged in the spread generously provided for them. The female had her legs propped up on the male's lap while he shared the occasional bite with her. No words were exchanged. Only the gentle clatter and scrapes of silverware meeting fine china could be heard through out the car and it was then did Boris realize he wasn't meeting with a couple of kids being sent off to their deaths.

He was meeting with a pair who had accepted their fates.

He half expected for them to jump when the car door was slid closed with a slam but they merely turned to him expectantly. The female had shoulder length dirty blonde hair and a green eye reminiscent to freshly cut grass. The other eye was hidden behind a fringe. Her skin was lightly tan as was her male counterpart's. He also had green eyes and rich chestnut colored hair. Boris had heard from the District 6 representative that they _both_ volunteered as tributes even before he could draw names and he couldn't help but to wonder why. Such an occurrence normally took place in District 2. Respectively, that was the first question he asked the pair.

The male turned to the female who took one more thoughtful bite of a fruit crepe before responding, "It's a lot easier to live in this world once you come to understand what's expected of you. No one else was ready to fight for their right to live so I decided to fight for them." She spoke in casual, even tones suggesting it was a well known fact of life. Next to her, the male tribute nodded and forked some groosling into his waiting mouth. Boris suspected his motives weren't so noble though.

Survival tactics were brought up and the three settled into a comfortable - as comfortable as the subject would allow anyway - discussion of what to do and what not to do and what Boris himself had to do to survive. He was a strong, muscular man with long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, who went straight for one of the many backpacks awaiting them and then took off to find a hiding spot. Allies got him so far before he had to kill them off too. He even went as far as to suggest they make separate alliances. The idea was quickly shot down ("Thanks for the warning, but it's unavoidable," the male tribute stated around a mouthful of fowl). What the unavoidable 'it' was needed not to be explained upon.

By the end of their little talk he learned their names; Pacen and Kentin.

* * *

Before the Tribute Parade, Pacen's hair was cut jaw length and framed her face in a mess of spikes. She still stubbornly kept the fridge covering her right eye much to one of her stylists disappointment, so to make it up to her, she suggested dying her hair blue. It was definitely a step up from her natural hair color. After all the costumes, the parades, the speeches, the tributes were allowed to retire and if she could marry the bed she slept on that night she would have been a happy woman for the rest of her short life. The Capitol seemed to pride themselves in spoiling the tributes with riches beyond belief and Pacen was happy to revel in their generosity. The shower, on the other hand, she nearly gave up on. Having such a complex system for such a simple function like spraying water she could do without.

Come the start of their training, the female tribute from District 6 had no clue what weapon she should utilize to defend herself. They had everything from javelins to bows to simple throwing knives. Kentin chose daggers and short swords; simple, light, nothing long enough to get in his way. She considered a bladed weapon as well, but then a staff caught her eye and that idea went out the window. It was made of solid metal and had some weight to it and yet Pacen spun it with little effort like the mops she used to clean the floors back home. Left to their own devices, she and Kentin used to engage in mock sparring matches with no real intent until they were caught and flogged for 'illegally training for the Hunger Games'.

Pacen sighed inwardly at the memory and gave the staff some more spins for old times sake, only to have it whirl out of her grasp and roll away just to have a foot stop its travel, and connected to the foot was a sneering blonde with long wavy hair and turquoise eyes. Not a friendly. "You're that girl from District 6 right? The one that volunteered along with her boyfriend?"

"Kent's not my boyfriend," Pacen dismissed casually. "But yes, I'm District 6's tribute. Mind handing that back to me?" She pointed to the staff and the unnamed blonde snickered, rolling the weapon onto her shoe and kicking it up into reach.

"You know what? I think I might just keep it." Without further ado, the other tribute left with her weapon of choice.

_Be weary of the Careers. _The Careers, Boris explained, were usually from Districts 1, 2, and 4 and they tended to stick together. They were also already trained for the Games. How was it she and Kentin couldn't cross broomsticks without public punishment but they could full out learn how to fight and defend themselves without so much of a slap on the wrist? Of course, Boris answered that question as well. _They support the Capitol whole heartily. _They were allowed to "illegally" train for the Hunger Games as long as they proved undying loyalty to the Capitol and that was something Pacen couldn't stomach. Relishing in their provided luxury was one thing - after all, everyone in her position would - but supporting the Capitol was like saying hosting the Hunger Games was right.

The sound of someone clearing their throat came from behind her and she turned to see a short, petite female holding out another staff for her to take. It was her hair though that really had Pacen's attention. "Thanks!" the tribute chimed, claiming the metallic weapon without second thought. Dwelling on such an insignificant detail like why the other girl was offering up a tool that would someday came and end her life could prove fatal in the arena. Take what you can and leave it at that. Questions could come later if one was still alive enough to ask them. "It seems I'm not the only who opted for hair dye."

The other girl blushed and smiled, brushing the light purple locks out of her face and behind her ear. "Yeah, it seems to be a trend among us," she replied softly. A glance around told Pacen exactly what she meant. A handful of others had dyed hair as well, the most notable being a male with cherry red hair and another with silver hair and black tips. "But I'm not sure how much it's going to benefit us in the long run. I'm Violette by they way. I'm District 11's tribute along with Lysander." Pacen gave her own information in turn and left it at that, politely dismissing herself from the conversation. They were there to train, not make backstabbing friends.

The next few days were spent mastering the staff and sparring with whoever was willing. Castiel, District 8's male tribute, was only one of many opponents Pacen faced off. Like his cherry red hair, he was fiery and brash and was more offensive than defensive. He also learned quickly. Pacen floored him once and he was back up with a bloody vengeance she was unprepared for. It didn't take long for the tribute to realize Pacen had a natural knack for using her opponents weight and momentum against them, allowing her to take down those with a much bigger stature. With that in mind, Castiel attacked and made sure to watch her moments closely, never getting too close and yet staying in hitting range. Soon he was winning more than loosing and Pacen would be lying if she said she wasn't scared of facing him in the arena.

Amber was another sparring partner, if one could call her that. She and her brother were also volunteers but that was normal for District 2 and she was the one who stole Pacen's first staff on day one. Unfortunately for her, a staff wasn't what she stuck with. She soon found herself on her back with a point of a Glaive at her throat and the blonde sneering down at her. Snickers rose from the gathered spectators and she didn't have to look to know they were from District 1's tribute, Li, and District 4's tribute, Charlotte. The three were among the ones who formed an alliance along with District 1's tribute, Armin, and District 4's tribute, Dakota.

Pacen hadn't engaged her since.

Lunch breaks were the most interesting. While Kentin and Pacen mostly stuck to themselves and further solidified other's suspicions of them being a couple, a select few would wander over to them and eat. Namely Castiel, Violette and her male counterpart, Lysander. The three had forged an alliance and they - meaning Violette - tried numerous times to get Kentin and Pacen to join them. Both of district 6's tributes declined politely. Another girl, Castiel's female counterpart, would also join them. She had introduced herself as Iris and didn't seem to want a partnership with the aforementioned three. She seemed more dead set on accompany the District 6 tributes but once again, they declined. Boris insisted they should align with someone other than their counterpart but they were simply content with fending for each other.

* * *

On their last day of training, Violette and her teammates came to eat with them and made what was supposedly their last offer for the two District 6 tributes to join their ranks ("There are safety in numbers," she pressed, to which Kentin pointed out the more people they aligned themselves with, the more they were keeping around people to possibly kill them). The group had been eating in silence since then. It was Lysander who spoke up next, "You two have an agreement." Pacen continued eating but Kentin didn't miss how her gaze flickered to him. She was expecting him to answer the question.

The brunette dropped his food and cupped his hands together. "Yeah, we do have a deal," he began. "But I don't see how it involves any of you. I trust Pacen, and she trusts me." Violette opened her mouth to intervene and Kentin simply held up his hand to stop her. "Trust isn't the only thing it comes down to. While it's a major playing factor, we do have our reasons for turning down alliances." He then looked to Pacen who nodded her approval. Task completed, he resumed eating.

The three seemed to ponder over their words as they took thoughtful bites of their meal. Just when Kentin thought no more words were going to be said, Pacen piped up, "I just thought of something. Twelve of the tributes are girls." a wicked grin broke across her face and garnered a gulp from her male counterpart. "How are you going to defend yourself if you don't feel comfortable hitting girls?" Their guests paused their eating at those words and turned to Kentin for an answer before Castiel delved into a fit of laughter.

"Man, you're so dead!" he exclaimed. Kentin scowled and threw a piece of meat at him.

"I highly doubt they'll be a problem, Pacen," he told her dryly. The bluenette didn't even attempt to hide her mirth.

* * *

The day before the actual Games began the tributes were forced to give an interview in front of a live audience and a rather flamboyant show host. Being charismatic to please the crowd was a simple task for the majority of the tributes. Even Pacen with her odd proclamation interested the crowd ("Me? Survive the Hunger Games? That beautiful choker you got there must be on too tight, Missy! I have high doubts I'm going to win. I'll do my best to put on a show of course," she stated and even winked at the crowd). Lysander on the other hand, wasn't all for putting on a false smile and feigning ease. Neither was Castiel but even he managed to win over some hearts with his honesty (well he didn't exactly lie...). But Lysander wasn't one for that kind of honesty either. It was his turn to be interviewed but he still wasn't sure what he was going to say or how he could use his natural demeanor to gain some sponsors or if was even capable of gaining sponsors.

His gait was smooth and strides graceful as he took a seat next to the flamboyant show host (Lysander either already forgot her name or was too worried over his presentation to catch it). She was something else though, that was for sure. Mixed-matched eyes wandered over the gathered crowed and the first question was asked. And then it came to him. He didn't have his notebook in hand so he simply stood and cleared his throat, "To be on the verge of death and to see death coming. To know you cannot do a thing about it as time suddenly slows and your heart rate picks up. Blood and adrenaline are pumping through your veins and your mind sharpens, allowing you to not only take in the situation at hand but much more.

You are useless, powerless, and, above all, _weak_, and it's in your weakness does it dawn on you how small you really are; how little control you really possess. You're power means nothing as you're going to be struck down like any other common animal - human or otherwise. You have no hand in fate. You're going to die and it's not going to matter in the grand scheme of things.

This realization makes you feel pitiful and unimportant, tossed aside like a used rag. At the same time, memories flash in front of your eyes. People, places, things, _everything_ you've ever said or did you remember as you cling desperately to the sliver of a moment you have before the end comes. Faces, eyes, smiles, frowns, the tears you cry and victories you shared, and it makes you wonder and challenge; how insignificant are you?

To be on the verge of death and to see death coming…

To stare at the face of death and to find _life_."


End file.
